Pain, Blood, and Freedom
by Otaku Nation
Summary: England comes home one night, dripping with blood and in pain. When Norway and America get involved, this seems to be more than just a small incident. This is only the beginning. Pairings: USUK and DenNor. Rated T for language, blood, gore, death, violence, and yaoi ;D don't like, don't read. Warning: THIS WILL MAKE YOU SAD! Also, plz don't hate on me when I try to kill them all!
1. Part I

I held my head in one hand groggily as I walked the darkened streets of London at 1 a.m., wincing as a car drove past. The street lights cast pools of light on the sidewalk that only made the world around me seem darker. I'd been at the pub all night with France, and he'd gotten me drunk enough that I could barley see strait anymore. My vision blurred and I realized I'd started to cry.

France had coming running after me after yet another failed attempt to tell Alfred my feelings, knowing exactly where I'd be going and didn't (for some reason) want me to drink myself to death.

"Mon ami," he'd said, putting an arm around me. "You know Amerique likes you too. So what's keeping you from coming out?"

That's the problem; I don't know. Alfred has the most obvious crush on me, and I'm still afraid that if I tell him he'll reject me. It's insane how much I worry, but if I didn't worry where would I be? Dead, probably. I bright light pierces my eyes and a sharp pain rips up my side. I try to walk, but my head suddenly feels very heavy. The ground rushes up at me and I fall, sputtering on the ground. I lie back against a wall, my heart beating faster than it should be and my breathing coming in harsh gasps. Using the last of my strength, I drag myself into the nearest alley and collapse, black spots clouding my vision until all a see is black.

And then nothing.

* * *

Pain. Pain is all I feel as I drag myself through the door and sag back against it, sweat coating me as if I'd just run through a rain storm. The room spins around me and I have to hold my breath to stop from falling to the floor. After a few minutes I push off and rush to my bathroom. Turning on the shower, I hop in, not bothering to undress and ignoring the sting of the water on my body. Below me, the water is red and black, swirling down the drain. I turn off the water in shock, slipping on the tub bottom and catching myself weakly on the sink.

I shakily step out, leaning against the wall for support. My mirror is fogged up, but I wipe away the condensation quickly with a gasp. The right side of my face is covered in fresh, red blood and there are three rips running down my shirt front, soaked through with water and fresh blood. For the first time I notice the ringing in my ears and the ache of my chest as I take each breath. I back away from the mirror, slipping on the tiled floor as I tried to scramble from the room.

My first thought is to call someone; anyone would work. I claw at the doorknob that won't seem to turn no matter how hard I try to open it. My fingers grip the metal as hard as they can, no longer caring, and rip the small instrument from the wood. The door bursts open and I run towards my wall phone, not able to control my strength in my panic. Ripping the transmitter from its cradle I stare in awe at the blur of numbers on the dial. My mind goes blank and the mouth piece falls from my shaking hands as I fall to my knees. No. Just breathe Arthur. In and out. In and out. In and-

"Blast!" I shout, reaching around me to find something – anything – to help me stand up. I catch hold of the sofa back and shakily stand, keeping my eyes closed as I collapse onto the cushions, my head sinking into the soft leather. As the dizziness recedes little voices begin to dance around my head and my eyelids flutter a bit.

"Do you think he's okay?"

"How should I know! He's breathing isn't he?"

"I'm no doctor. Someone wake him up!"

A small, high pitched voice whispers into my ear, "Isn't that Alfred over there? And look, he's shirtless!", causing me to sit up rather fast, nearly whacking my head against the latter's. Floating above me were Flying Mint Bunny and Miss Fairy, both looking at me with concern. I sighed after realizing Alfred was no where in sight and laid back down, holding my now throbbing head in one hand and groaning in pain. I attempted to smile up at my friends, but gave up when my teeth only gritted together.

"Hello Miss Fairy, Flying Mint Bunny. How are you today?"

"Just fine, thank you!" replied Miss Fairy, receiving a glare from FMB as he continued to stare down at me worriedly. "Um, and how are you Arthur?"

"Oh, I'm just fine." I responded, blatantly lying. FMB gave me a look that said 'Are-You-Kidding-Me?' before smacking Miss Fairy upside the head for being so calm.

"Um... England, are you sure you're okay?" FMB asked, floating closer to me, frowning. This time I manage a smile, however fake it is, and respond.

"I'm fine..." I hesitate before continuing. "But I am feeling a bit under the weather. Would you mind calling someone for me?"

"No, not at all!" FMB said, probably relieved I hadn't gone completely insane yet. "Who should I call?"

"Would you call Alfred for me? I'm sure... he can help..." I say, my eyelids suddenly feeling heavy. I force them open as black spots cloud my vision, fighting against the inevitable for a few more seconds. FMB notices this and starts to get panicked.

"But England, that's not possible! Alfred can't see us, remember?" he rushes, starting to fly around frantically. "England! Don't fall asleep!"

"But I'm so... tired..." I can't fight the drowsiness any longer and give in, letting my eyes close peacefully. FMBs' protests fade away until all I can see is black and all I feel is the steady beat of my heart in my numb chest. As I look around, figures shrouded in shadow surround me, blocking my sight. I can't see their faces, but something inside me is screaming at me to run.

Somewhere in my mind I can hear myself calling, hear the urgent tone of my own voice yelling at me to get out of there right now. But I can't move, and as the nearest figure leans over me, their black cloak slithering across my feet, I feel a prick of pain in my chest. My right hand grasps my shirt over my heart, and the steady beat I'd been feeling before is overpowered by an intense flame growing in my chest. The beating against my fingers begins to speed, racing fast enough to cloud my eyes red as the pain grows even worse.

I let out a whimper, barely seeing the ghost-like figures slowly descend on me, their bony hands running over my body to slowly engulf me in flames that reach high into the darkness around me. Somewhere along the way I'd lost track of my heartbeat, which is so fast I got a headache just thinking about it. My eyes squint shut and tears run down my cheeks as I fight the screams trying to rip from me. I moan in agony as one of the figures' hands runs over my mouth to touch my forehead.

My eyes spring open just as the scene before me shrinks away. And I'm falling.

* * *

Meanwhile in the Nordics House...

Norway was sitting around, trying and failing to ignore Denmark as he went on and on about something rather stupid and poked fun at him.

"Hey, Den." Iceland said after a while. The Dane froze mid-sentence with a crazy look on his face before turning around to face the Icelandic.

"Yeah _Little Brother_? What's up?" Denmark asked, rising from his seat next to Norway, much to his pleasure. Iceland looked very ticked off for a second before responding, whispering something into the Danes ear that made him go pale and rush off.

Iceland sat across the room from Norway, nodding to him, before gazing out the window. A few seconds later Sweden and his 'wife', Finland, sat down near Iceland, who started up a conversation with them about normal things; probably politics or something like that. Norway sighed, staring up at the ceiling. That's when he saw Flying Mint Bunny, floating nervously above him and waving his arms. Motioning for Norway to follow him, FMB flew through the doors and into the Norwegians' room, said man following behind him hurriedly. Once inside he locked the door and walked over to his friend, smiling slightly, though he'd never admit it.

"Hello. It's nice to see you, Flying Mint Bunny." Norway said, sitting down on his bed next to the hovering creature. FMB nodded back fast, looking panicked and shaken.

"Norway, I think I need your help." FMB said urgently, catching Norway off guard. FMB had never acted this way before, and Norway was very worried.

"What's wrong?" he asked, leaning towards his friend.

"It's England..."


	2. Part II

Norway burst through England's door, not even bothering to knock or check if it was unlocked. On the steps outside there were patches of dried blood, smeared on the concrete as if the person who'd left them hadn't known they were bleeding. There were several hand prints on the green door and the handle was still a bit slick with the metallic substance.

When the door opened the strong scent of blood overpowered the usually burnt scent of England's house, seeing as he was always cooking. Norway shut the door behind him and looked around in shock. The nations' house was a mess, things strewn all over the floor and tossed aside as if the person living in it were either blind or American.

As Norway walked forward, Flying Mint Bunny floating cautiously behind him, his feet slipped on the wet floor and he nearly fell, latching onto the nearest thing to him. That thing just so happened to be a door frame leading into the Brits bedroom. The door leading into it was smeared with more blood, and when the Norwegian further investigated, he discovered the mans bathroom, which looked like a slaughterhouse.

The mirror over the sink was cracked with blood painted all over it; the shower was covered in so much blood it looked as if someone had taken an actual shower in the substance. Norway didn't dare enter the room though, seeing as he didn't want to slip on the blood soaked floor.

As he continued to follow the trail of destruction he got worried. No injury caused by a human could do this, so it had to be something else. There was so much blood everywhere; even for a nation, this was a lot of blood. Almost enough to kill someone.

He'd finally made it to the living room. This was the center of all the destruction.

The curtain nearest Norway was drenched in blood, still dripping rhythmically onto the wooden floor. FMB had officially taken to hiding behind Norway at this point, cowering in fear of his other friend being dead. Ahead of them there was a trail of bloody footsteps, leading to an overturned couch in the center of the room.

It looked like everything within a five foot area of that couch had been blown away; several things were overturned, a few more things had exploded against the walls, and even more had just been plastered to the ceiling or the floorboards with shear force and blood. Splattered all around them were droplets and hand prints clawing as if something was trapped.

It was then that they heard the heavy breathing of something behind the couch. It sounded as if something was obstructing the breaths, and Norway's chest tightened in fear. He edged slowly closer to the furniture piece, holding his hands up in defense. As he got closer he could hear a beat, like a bass drum but muffled and very slow, like the drummer was about to fall asleep and was forgetting how and when to beat against the instrument.

Norway reached out one hand and grabbed the side of the couch, quickly bringing it back covered in blood a moment later. He took one look at FMB, who had stopped following a few steps ago, and bent closer to the seat.

Faint words were coming from the other side. Norway could only hear snatches of what was being said, but what he heard sounded like a chant of some sort, being repeated over and over again. He sucked in one last breath and poked his head around the other side of the couch. What he saw was shocking.

England, slumped unconscious against the back of the couch, was coated from head to toe in blood. His chest barely stirred as he took each breath, each time wincing with visible pain. It was impossible to tell where the red on his was coming from, but he was sitting in a slowly expanding pool of his own blood.

Norway sucked in another harsh breath before standing up again. He walked past Flying Mint Bunny, through the door, and ran down the steps, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He tried to control his breathing but it was hard, and he found himself sitting on the last step with his face buried in his hands.

After a few minutes he was able to control himself again, wiping away the one tear that had escaped him. He marched back up the bloodstained stairs and into the house, slamming the door behind him. He ran through the foyer, ignoring the gasps from behind the couch, and eventually found a phone.

Dialing, he tapped his foot impatiently and waited, hearing the ringing tone. After a minute he hung up, redialing and holding the phone up to his ear again. This time someone picked up, there were some muffled curses on the other line, but then Americas' voice grumbled through the receiver.

"What is it England? It's, like, 3 A.M. for crying out loud! This better-"

Norway cut him off, "America, this isn't England."

There was a pause on the other end. "Norway. What's wrong?" America asked, sounding more alert now. Norway sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"How long will it take you to get over here?" he asked.

"About seven hours. Why, did something happen?" he asked, worry in his voice.

The Norwegian cursed, almost hanging up the phone. "No, that won't do! Dammit! He might be gone by then..."

"What? Who? Norway, what the Hell is going on?" America yelled. There was scuffling on the other end as the American got out of bed.

"It's England; he-" suddenly there was a huge crash from the living room. Norway looked behind him before abandoning the phone, Americas' confused and angry voice echoing through the hall.

There was a huge crash and the sounds of things breaking burst through the house and the phone fell off its table, the cord ripping out of the wall.

The line went dead as America stared at his beeping phone in quiet denial. Then he left his house in a mad rush, running towards the airport as fast as he could, hoping against hope he wasn't too late.

"England!"

America started yelling for the Brit as soon as he saw his house come into view. Once he'd made it to the front door, he bent over, coughing and gasping for air. He'd run through all the security gates at both airports, not even stopping for breath as he raced to his friends' country. One thing was clear to America, whatever had happened to England was not good, and he needed to help.

He was the Hero after all!

But when America stood up and looked around he saw something he hadn't been expecting. The steps up to England's door were covered in what looked like... blood? America warily climbed up to the door, grasping the crusted handle firmly and trying not to let his nerves get in the way of what needed to be done.

The door was unlocked, and it swung open as if had been sealed shut a moment ago. The American was hit with a gust of musty, rust scented air that made it hard to breathe. He nearly coughed, but cleared his throat quickly to avoid it. He couldn't look weak, he was the Hero!

He shut the door behind him with a click that echoed ominously through the silent house. It felt like no one had been in the house in years, and America cautiously edged forward into the main room, skipping the Brits completely for fear of what he might find. He emerged in the large room that America remembered from his younger days spent here; this was where he'd often fall asleep to England's soft humming or the sound of rain pattering on the windows.

Of course, both of them hated rain now. Ever since that day, the day America had gained Independence from England, they'd both despised the rain.

But somehow the room had a rather... _hostile... _feeling to it now. America shuddered, looking around him at the bloodied ground and walls, where sharp wood and metal shards of this and that were lodged into the surrounding facade. The sound of breathing, coming from two different people, whispered in the large foyer.

He took another step forward and stopped. Lying against the wall closest to him was a small, crumpled body. Their long, bloodied bangs hung down in their face, but America could still tell who it was, and bent down to lift up the others' face.

"Norway. Hey man, speak to me!" he yelled. The Norwegians' eyes opened a bit, but he didn't move. "Norway. What happened? Are you okay?"

"No," he croaked, taking a raged breath before forcing himself into a sitting position. "But you shouldn't be worrying about me."

That's right... America's head snapped up at that, fear in his eyes. "Where is he?" he asked frantically. He made a move to stand, but Norway reached out and grabbed his arm. America turned back to see blood flowing from the corner of the others' mouth.

"He's over there, but... Be careful." Norway stared into Americas' eyes until the man nodded, sneaking away towards the center.

The entire floor around the couch was stained red, and the breathing from behind it was worse, barely audible and uneven. America sucked in a big breath, summoning his courage, and looked around the seat. He froze in place.

Tears leapt to the mans' eyes, blurring his vision. His legs wobbled and he fell, hands covering his tear coated face as he shook with sobs. Then, a small, timid hand rested on his arm.

"It's okay," a strangled voice said. "I'm fine."


	3. Part III

Wow! I posted the first two chapters yesterday and already there's people favoriting and reviewing! Especially following! Thank you to everyone who's been reading so far! Here's the next chapter!

* * *

After that it was all uphill. America cleaned England up, and England just sat there, not really paying attention. His eyes were clouded and his thoughts scattered, as if someone had come inside his brain and kicked his nerves until they broke. All he heard were faint voices in his head, saying things like "idiots" or "just die already". England didn't know what to think of this, so he just sat quietly as America wrapped his torso in bandages.

Though England had nearly died and Norway was unconscious in the living room, Alfred couldn't help but blush as he finished bandaging the Arthur and picked him up, carrying his to his room. He didn't bother to remove any of the latter's clothes, just laid him down under the covers and tucked him in. England's eyes closed as the American left to go tend to Norway, but he didn't fall asleep. The voices in his head only grew louder as he sat still and he found himself gripping the covers tightly.

After he got Lukas fixed up-the man had two broken ribs-America fell onto a chair in the library, immediately falling asleep. He woke hours later to the sound of shattering glass and leapt up, running towards the source, which was England's room. When he opened the door he saw Arthur sitting strait up in bed, a thin trail of blood running down over his eye, and the mirror across from his shattered into a thousand pieces.

Several of those shards, he saw, were lodged into the walls, the bed, and pretty much all around the Brit, who was shivering, his eyes wide with fear. America strode over to him, placing his hands firmly on the latter's shoulders, and turned his eyes to face him.

"England. What happened?" he asked. The other stopped shaking as his eyes focused on the American. Tears started to fall, and he tightly embraced Alfred, who was shocked. England never hugged him. HE returned the hug, patting the others back. When Arthur pulled away, his tears gone, he looked America right in the eyes.

"Can you get Norway for me?" he asked, his voice strong. America, though worried, nodded and left to get the Norwegian. Said man was awake in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee and making a weird face.

"America. Your coffee sucks almost as much as Denmark's does. Congratulations." he said as a greeting, setting the cup down. He took one look at the American's face and became concerned. "What?"

"It's England. He says he wants to see you." Alfred said, then got confused. "Didn't you hear that sound a few minutes ago? Like breaking glass?"

"No," Norway said, approaching the American. "But come on, let's go see what he wants."

They came back into Arthur's room, where he was lying back in his bed, eyes staring up at the ceiling. When he saw the Norwegian he smiled, sitting back up.

"What happened in here?" Lukas said, looking around with a blank gaze. Something like fear flashed in his eyes and he looked straight at the Brit, who nodded sadly.

"They're here." he confirmed. Lukas sat down on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands. England, though, didn't look at all concerned. He just sat there watching as Norway ran a hand through his hair, obviously trying not to freak. America was still very confused.

"What do you mean 'They're here'? Who's here?"

As if remembering America was there, Arthur looked up. "The 2Ps."

America stared blankly at him. "What?"

England face-palmed, still way too calm, and pointed at Alfred.

"2Ps. They look like you, talk like you, _they are you_, but they live in an alternate universe."

"A parallel one, to be exact." Norway said, standing. His face had a troubled look on it as he began to pace the room. "England, how?"

"Don't ask me." he said, then paused. "Actually..."

"What do you mean! Did you make our worlds collide?" Lukas yelled, freezing mid-step. England was looking very confused as he tried to piece things together.

"I... I was there. They took me for a moment. Somehow they've figured out how to connect us, and right now they're targeting me. I don't know how, but when I went under earlier I saw them-I think. And just now, in the mirror. I heard this voice. And then-"

"And then the mirror exploded?" America asked, starting to catch on. Arthur nodded distractedly.

"Yes. In the mirror, too I saw something. Out of the corner of my eye I saw-"

A loud sound that felt like ice being jabbed into your ears rose up at that moment, cutting England off and causing them all to cover their ears. It went on for what seemed like hours, and when it was over America and Norway were on the ground. England was the first to react, jumping out of bed despite the pain he was in and rushing out the door, Norway following close behind. Last of all Alfred stumbled out, his hands covered in blood as his ears rang. He couldn't hear anything past that ringing.

Once he caught up with the other two nations he saw what that sound was. All around them glass was shattered, littering the ground, walls, and ceiling with sharp ridges. England was on the ground, hands covering his ears as he shouted things. Norway was next to him, shaking him and screaming for him to answer.

"America!" he shouted, his voice muffled by the ringing, turning his gaze at him. "Find his spell book!"

"But where?" he called back, not hearing his own voice. Norway didn't answer, screaming something along the lines of "Don't talk back, don't talk back!" at Arthur as his words began to fade. America ran towards the library, throwing the books that weren't already on the floor down, searching for a special one. When he saw it he dashed over, picking it up without even checking the title.

Back in the original room he found Norway with his forehead pressed against England's, who had fallen silent. Norway was still calling things quietly, but none seemed to be getting through to the unconscious Brit. America handed over the book, not able to take his eyes off England. Norway began to read, chanting, but nothing seemed to work.

Suddenly, a bright light filled the room. Norway cried out, and America was knocked back into the wall, hearing something inside him crack. The glare lasted only seconds, but when it was gone, Arthur wasn't there. No, Arthur wasn't, but someone wearing pink and purple stood in the middle of the room, a tray of cupcakes in hand. He had the most sadistic smile, his light green eyes covered by his blond hair.

The man laughed, and then disappeared, leaving America to slowly sink into his mind, plagued by one thought.

_They're here..._

* * *

That was a plot twist :3 I hope you enjoyed! Also, I don't own Hetalia!


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